


Lath'sal'in

by HollowPhoenix



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Hair Braiding, M/M, dorian doesn't know how to braid hair, someone help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowPhoenix/pseuds/HollowPhoenix
Summary: When he asks Dorian to braid his hair, he's met with surprise.





	Lath'sal'in

He sat on top of his sheets, cross-legged like always. His lover was nestled underneath the bedding, with a heavy book in his hands. They both were stripped down to their smallclothes, and as the moonlight poured in through the single open window, the elf opened his mouth to speak.

  
"Come braid my hair, Dorian."

  
Dorian glanced away from the pages and raised an eyebrow. "What for?" He inquired. The request tickled him; made him warm.

  
But the elf was secretive, and his expression was beckoning. Without another word, Dorian shuffled the blankets off and pulled himself closer to Lavellan, until he was parallel, sitting cross-legged in the same fashion directly behind him. His hands rolled over his pale shoulders, and he squeezed the tight muscles there, garnering a chuckle out of him.

  
"Go on, then. What're you waiting for?" Lavellan asked him, almost eager.

  
Dorian sighed. Before him was a sea of red, flowing straight down the middle of Lavellan's back, stopping when it had reached the midsection. He didn't know where to begin, or how, for that matter. In the soft candlelight, each strand seemed to glow. Dorian decided, now he would touch it.

  
As his fingers ran through, he felt as if he held the sun. He had carded his hands through once or twice before, but this was different, he could feel it. More formal; something proper.

  
Lavellan hummed in contentment, and maybe relief. He could feel Dorian's fingers through his hair and onto his back. He wondered if the mage liked his freckles, and if the red bothered him, like it would a bull.

  
Dorian wondered something himself. He wondered if, with all his years, he remembered how to do this. He recalled a few nights in Tevinter, giving the same treatment to Maevaris' hair before a ball; before getting blackout drunk. Or was it the other way around? Shit.

  
With a bit of hesitation, he began his work. He divided the pieces, one, two, three, separating tangles and scattered curls as he went. He thought perhaps he was pulling too hard. It wasn't something the elf liked, not even in bed. But with no sign of complaint, he continued; fumbled. Was it the middle piece you started with? Or the left?

  
Lavellan felt it. The unsure tug at the left, then the right, and a slight back and forth of the middle piece. His grin was wide. "Right over middle, left over right, Dorian."

  
Dorian cleared his throat. "Of course."

  
Ah, right. This feels familiar. Dorian thought, after completing the cycle once or twice. His pace quickened a bit, but he made sure to take the time to smooth down the pieces as he went. This felt strange, though. It felt traditional, emotional, heavy.

  
"My clan," Lavellan spoke up, finally. Though Dorian didn't mind the sound of the breeze blowing through the window, rustling the curtains. "they… we, think that hair is sacred. It's an insult to tell someone to cut their own."

  
Dorian cocked his head. He felt perhaps slightly wrong to touch it. His grip loosened upon the strands.

  
"To let someone else be the judge of it, is almost like a complete surrender of the soul. A definitive act of trust." He crinkled his nose and laughed quietly. "…It's silly."

  
"No," Dorian interjected quickly. "It isn't silly. I'm more concerned about what your clansmen would think about this, if I'm honest."

  
"Oh, they'd hate it. A Tevinter braiding my hair? They'd have my head."

  
"Scandalous."

  
Lavellan hummed in agreement. "But I love you. I want the connection, is all." He pulled the black hair tie off of his wrist and handed it back to Dorian. "It's called lath'sal'in. "To love the soul", or something like that."

  
"Quite esoteric. Here, we'd call it a hairstyle and nothing more."

  
The elf laughed under his breath when he felt Dorian fumble with the hair tie. He scrambled to keep the braided hair in place, tugging only slightly by accident. Lavellan laughed more. "Easy, Magister. You won't be breaking any sort of binding ritual if you let go."

  
"Quite sorry, Amatus. I know you don't like when I pull." The innuendo tasted sweet in Dorian's mouth, and earned a smug grin from his lover.

  
At last, he managed to tie the small length of unbraided hair into the hair tie, and he was unexpectedly satisfied with the outcome. He pulled his hands away and admired his work. Some of his finest, he thought.

  
Lavellan turned in place, still cross-legged when he faced Dorian. He smiled wide, eyes looking upward to meet his lover.

  
He was best when he smiled, Dorian thought. The scent of sandalwood drifted from the dresser where a stick lay burning. Lavellan liked his potpourris expensive and his curtains tacky; something Dorian figured he would never fully understand. Perhaps the scents reminded him of home.

  
The elf held the braid in his fingers, admiring its neatness. "You did well." He said through another smile.

  
Dorian raised his eyebrows. "Please. How could you ever have doubts?" He nearly broke into a sweat upon saying these words. He wondered if the elf could see that he'd had doubts himself.

  
Lavellan lied back onto the bed sheets, kicking his legs about to squirm underneath the covers. He didn't know how late it was, but the moon told him he would wake up again soon. He watched Dorian sit fully upright on the bed and sigh contentedly before pushing himself off of the mattress to blow out the candles and snuff out the stick of sandalwood.

  
The room was dim now, only a shaft of blue moonlight lingering through the windows. Dorian clambered into bed and pulled the sheets up to his neck. And as he lay facing Lavellan, he wondered what his hair would look like in the morning when he pulled the tie out.

**Author's Note:**

> this ends sort of abruptly maybe? idk i just wanted to get something done. im terrible at finishing things and i didn't want this to go any further than this lol  
> but idk i liked the idea and thought it was cute. and i haven't written any fluff in about 50 years so i hope you enjoyed lmao  
> i also used Project Elvhen and tried to translate back to English and maybe it's wrong but it goes with the theme??????


End file.
